Category: anecdotes & other (funny) stories

Though I have no vivid images of how my childhood was, I somehow remember some experiences that I had. And like any other kids, I remember having toys and dolls but the difference is, I wasn’t able to play my dolls.

I remember having so many dolls: Barbie? You name it. I have a complete set with houses, wardrobes, and pets. Not just barbies, I also have a life-size kitchen set for kids. Most of it was given to me as a gift on my birthdays & Christmas and the rest was bought by my grandmother. But, I never played them.

I don’t remember who put it in a nice clear plastic and displayed it. The boxes were never opened. But I remember what my grandmother said when I asked if I can play with my dolls: baka masira lang, pag laki mo na. (it might just break, you can play it when you grow up) and since I was just a kid that time, I agreed. Years passed, I never able to play with it until I get in high school. I don’t remember what happened to my dolls, maybe my mother gave it to my cousins I don’t know, and just like that, it disappeared before my eyes.

I said to myself that if ever I will have a daughter, I will buy her dolls and let her play with it whenever she wants. I always wanted to play dolls — like braiding the hair, change her from gowns to dresses, and ofc play my dolls with a friend. I want my daughter to experience what I haven’t. I don’t want her to live like me; no clear images of how my childhood was. I want her to remember every single day of her childhood. I want her to make good memories even if she’s still a kid.

If ever there’s a room with a time machine, I will go back to when I asked my grandmother if I can play with my dolls, and even if she didn’t allow me to play with it, I will sneak out of my room and get my doll from the display and play with it. 😀

PS: I remember playing paper dolls but a real barbie doll was better, right? Hahahaha.

If you tell me a joke, I might not catch the humour of it in a second or a minute. Or you might tell me a story and ask something about it and just stare at you for a few seconds before I realize that you are actually talking to me.

My little sister always gets irritated with me being slow like she was talking the whole time and I was not paying attention to what she’s telling me. My attention gets easily caught off of something and that’s not intentional (I PROMISE!) I don’t even know why I became like this and I just laugh at it. It is funny how my sister would tell the story all over again, but ofc, I need to hear her out if ever she’ll repeat it.

Last night, my brother was calling me and I am busy with my phone. Not until my sister tapped me on my shoulder and knew that my little brother was calling me, asking me to volume up the tv. WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME? HAHAHAHA. And one time, while having our dinner, we had a little chit-chat with my boyfriend and my sister about I dont remember and suddenly I don’t even know what we were talking about and I was like, what? wait, can you tell that part again, and there was my sister, staring at me like I did something horrible and she rolled her eyes on me and told me to just shut up and she won’t repeat what’s she’s talking about. And I was like okay. Or sometimes I misunderstood the whole point of what my sister was telling me.

I remember how I used to love the smell of my father’s gel and secretly used it on my hair. I loved its color too; there’s a lot to choose from – light pink, yellow, blue and white, and thought that it will dye my hair according to what color I used, but of course it didn’t. The slime feels of it made me more excited. From then, I used to get one from my father’s and used it daily.

I grew up having a short hair, and there was a time when I went to the parlor and the hairdresser accidentally cut some of my hair shorter than the other, which looked kinda ugly. Imagine your hair with some shorter hairs, like baby hairs, that stands out in some areas. It was kinda frustrating if you are making braids. And my discovery of the hair gel was a great help to my dilemma that time.

I thought that it was cool. My hair’s cool, it was neat and easy to manage any styles that I want. My childhood guy friends were using it too so I thought it was a trend. Even when I went to school, I can’t leave the house without using it to my hair. It was a daily routine. Until one time, a girl, older than me, bullied me. I have no idea why she kept on laughing at me. And I was not that close to her in the first place but she kept on bothering me and telling me that I was not normal. Sometimes she puts something on my hair secretly, sometimes she poked it, curious to know how hard the strands were. I got irritated and stopped using hair gels since then.

The day when I stopped using gels on my hair felt uncomfortable and oddly sad. I used to smell my hair and loved the smell of it and I was happy. When I play with different hairstyles, I was happy. My collection of hair gels with different colors made me happy. And as a child, it was like someone took my favorite candy. Because of that girl, my confidence went from 100 to 0 drastically. I hardly made friends in my neighborhood after that, especially with girls, thinking that all the girls around me were the same from the girl who bullied me. I stayed home after school. I don’t even have a vivid memory of how my childhood was, or any memorable or exciting incidents aside from the hair gels.

It was too hard for me to make friends not until I met my very first best friend in elementary. (maybe I will write another post about my first best friend and how I met her. :D)

I still love the smell of hair gels and the slime-y feels of it. But I am not using it anymore because obviously it is not normal for a girl to use it. XD It’s kind of a funny story to me, excluding the part where I was bullied because of my hair. But now looking back, I realise that being who you are is more important than paying attention to what others might say about you. At the end of the day, all those judgements are nothing if you truly accept your true self. :—-)